


The Lady of Shiring

by rachlovesligers



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M, although the story is not at all similar, slightly influenced by The Pillars of the Earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 04:37:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13159422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachlovesligers/pseuds/rachlovesligers
Summary: Steve has been sent to kill the ruthless Lady Margaret Carter, but the woman he finds is not at all what he expected.





	The Lady of Shiring

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Steggy Secret Santa gift for the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl.

Steve thought he knew all there was to know about Lady Margaret Carter. He’d heard the stories; she was power hungry, mercenary. She rose to prominence after her brother’s untimely death, butchered in battle by a mercenary paid for with her gold.

 

Her father was still alive, but just barely, weakened by drink he’d been forced to hand over his responsibilities to his daughter, as he retreated further and further out of public sight. Rumour had it his drinks were laced with poison, courtesy of Lady Margaret’s healer. She was greedy and ruthless, starving her people to feed her army with the goal of expanding, taking neighbouring lands by force. But not a single story had mentioned how beautiful she was.

 

Steve watched her as she walked through the bustling market, flanked by two guards. Her glossy, chestnut brown hair was partly pulled back, it twisted at her crown and fell in waves across her shoulders. The dress she wore was varying shades of blue and extremely flattering, hugging her curves, but he was drawn to her warm smile. Dimples framed her lips as she laughed, her deep brown eyes creasing.

 

Her warmth was at odds with the brutal woman he’d been told so much about, but perhaps that was how she’d become so successful. Perhaps she knew just how to take advantage of the hold her beauty had over the people around her. Steve had absolutely no intention of falling for her charm. He’d been sent here for one reason only, to kill Margaret Carter.

 

* * *

 

His first opportunity came when a bad storm flooded the marketplace. It was chaos. Market goers tried to flee while merchants rushed to get their produce to dry and sheltered areas, in the panic a horse had got out of control and caused a cart to overturn. Several more people were injured as they tried to calm the horse down.

 

Lady Margaret became separated from her guard as she ran towards the cart, ramming through hordes of people trying to flee. Steve moved closer, watching her. Her dressed was drenched, the lower half ruined by the muddy water she waded through, but she didn’t seem to notice, she pulled crates of wool and fabrics out of the path of the rising rain water, passing them to outstretched hands. Moving closer, Steve began to pick up sacks of grain. He kept Lady Margaret in his line of sight as he helped the struggling merchant. The storm battered his unstable stall, but they were able to get the majority of his produce up to dryer areas.

 

A piercing wail caught Steve’s attention, and he turned, searching for the source of the noise. A young boy, no older than five, had slipped in the mud and scraped his knee on a broken crate. It was bleeding badly. Lady Margaret ran to the boy, and Steve followed. As he approached she tore a length of fabric from her dress and used it to staunch the bleeding.

 

Steve knelt down beside her. “That wound will need stitches,” he said.

 

She turned to him, frowning.

 

“My lady,” he added as an afterthought, sensing her distaste.

 

“It’s Peggy,” she corrected him. “Are you a healer?”

 

Her voice sent a thrill through him and he realised he’d not heard her speak before, at least not close enough to hear the crispness of her tone, mixed with a surprising softness. She stared at him, waiting for an answer.

 

He shook his head. “My mother was. She taught me a little.”

 

She nodded, scooping the boy up in her arms. She turned, her eyes searching the crowd frantically, but no one came forward to claim the child. With the boy still wailing in her arms she slogged through the mud, heading out of the market.

 

Steve followed her without question. She took the child down winding roads, shushing him gently as they got further away from the noise and confusion of the market. The child whimpered, but seemed somewhat placated in her arms. She led Steve to a modest house, which apparently belonged to the boy’s family.

 

Placing the whimpering boy in a chair, she turned to Steve.

 

“What do you need?”

 

“Need?” Steve’s brow furrowed.

 

“To clean the wound?”

 

Steve shook his head. “No, no, no. My mother was the healer, I just observed.”

 

Peggy frowned. “Our healer had to take an urgent trip to Millstone, he won’t be back before nightfall. Can you help him or not?” She nodded to the boy.

 

Steve sighed, rubbing his head before reeling off a list of equipment. Peggy gripped his arm, squeezing it lightly as she met his gaze.

 

“Thank you,” she said.

 

* * *

 

Steve had no idea where Peggy managed to gather the supplies from, but he didn’t question it. He got to work cleaning and stitching up the wound, before neatly bandaging it. He tried to distract the boy, John, by asking him questions; if he had any siblings, what he wanted to be when he grew up. Steve talked a little about his life too, John seemed especially interested when he mentioned his time on the battlefield.

 

They carried on talking after Steve had finished, and as he began to gather up the supplies he noticed Peggy’s eyes on him. He glanced up at her, and she held his gaze. There was something in her look Steve couldn’t quite make out, intrigue, perhaps? He wasn’t sure. He went back to clearing up the equipment.

 

With John resting Steve left, following Peggy as she led him back towards the marketplace. They were alone. It was the opportunity Steve had been waiting for, no guards, no witnesses, he could be through with his task in a matter of minutes, but he found he was repulsed by the thought of harming her.

 

He watched as Peggy sighed, rubbing her hand over her face. She looked utterly drained, but in an instant the expression was gone, she took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, and headed back towards the crowded market.

 

* * *

 

Steve followed Peggy for the next few weeks, keeping his distance. He learned that she was well loved by the people of her town, who for the most part simply referred to her as Peggy. He continued to be surprised by how much time she spent out in the town, with the people. There were no lavish banquets or gratuitous displays of wealth, none of the things he’d come to associate with nobility.

 

It made Steve uneasy. He knew he’d made a mistake by coming here to kill her, he could see now that he’d been fed half-truths at best, and outright lies at worst. He knew he needed to return home and give back the gold he’d been paid, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

 

So Steve continued to trail her. He knew if he returned home, money in hand and Margaret Carter still breathing, another mercenary would be sent to complete the job he couldn’t finish. Steve hated that thought, and he equally hated the thought of returning home and never seeing her again. He didn’t know what to make of that.

 

* * *

 

His wavering proved pointless, word had somehow got back to Lord Pierce that Steve was hesitating. Steve watched as three men trailed Peggy, and then skilfully managed to separate her from her guard as she approached a secluded alley. As soon as they were out of his line of sight Steve moved to follow them.

 

He rounded the corner to find her putting up a hell of a fight. One of her assailants was behind her, his arm around her neck, but she was struggling hard, jerking her hand out with what looked like a letter opener. The other man stood in front of her, hesitating, he clutched his stomach with a blood-stained hand. It appeared she’d struck him at least once, and he was wary about approaching her again.

 

Steve noticed the third man, out cold on the floor. She must have quick reactions, judging by how fast she’d been able to take him out. As the man with his arm around Peggy’s neck noticed Steve, he started to tighten his grip. Steve stepped forward, knocking out the wounded man with one hit. He pulled the last man off Peggy, twisting the man’s arm behind his back until he cried out.

 

Without warning, Peggy stepped forward and levelled the man with a single blow. Steve released his grip and stood, stunned, as the man fell to the floor.

 

Peggy was breathing heavily as she looked up at him. “Too big-headed to let another man finish your job?”

 

“What?”

 

“You were sent here to kill me, weren’t you?” She held his gaze, challenging him to deny it.

 

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said gently. “You’re not the person they told me you were.”

 

Peggy stepped forward, they were stood chest to chest, almost touching.

 

She looked up and held his gaze. “Then why are you still here?”

 

Her voice was like velvet, it made his insides turn to liquid. Standing so close he could feel the warmth radiating from her body, he could smell the floral scent of her hair. He wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly her lips were on his, soft and urgent at the same time. She teased his mouth open and touched her tongue to his, sending a shiver down his spine.

 

After long moments of kissing, Peggy pushed him back against the wall, pressing her body against his as her lips found his again. Her strength sent a thrill through him and he kissed her roughly, his fingers biting into her hips.

 

When she pulled away he whined, after being so close to her he couldn’t bear the thought of having that ripped away. He wanted to hold her, to explore her mouth with his own. Thankfully she gripped his hand and pulled him along with her.

 

* * *

 

Peggy had no idea what the hell she was doing. If she let herself think about it for even a moment, she knew she’d talk herself out of it. So she didn’t think, she just took his hand, and pulled him towards the castle.

 

She didn’t know why she was so drawn to this man, but after the year she’d had, she wasn’t going to question the first mildly positive thing to happen to her. He was sinfully attractive, and in that moment all she wanted was him. They entered the keep, past the questioning eyes of the guards, and up the winding staircase to her bed chambers. He didn’t protest, didn’t hesitate, and then they were alone. In the quiet stillness of her room, she suddenly felt so presumptuous.

 

She dragged her hand through her hair, looking up at him. At Steve. Her aides had found out his name and who he was after she noticed him trailing her. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find in his gaze, but she certainly wasn’t prepared for the adoration in his smile.

 

He looked dopey, his lips slightly swollen. _Christ_ , he was beautiful. She pulled her lower lip through her teeth and his adoration turned to hunger. She cupped his cheek, pulling his lips to meet hers, and kissed him.

 

“Take me to bed,” she murmured, and he didn’t hesitate.

 

* * *

 

Peggy woke slowly, wrapped up in Steve’s warm embrace. It was a reckless decision, bedding a man sent to kill her, but she couldn’t find the energy to care. After her brother’s death and her father’s subsequent efforts to drink himself to an early grave, Peggy had been forced to take on her father’s role. She’d never wanted it, but she couldn’t sit by and watch the people of her town suffer as her father drowned in his grief.

 

Steve stirred next to her, his arm tightening around her waist, pulling her closer to him. It scared her how right it felt, waking up beside him. With a yawn his eyes blinked open, and he turned his head to look at her. His bright blue eyes were framed by beautifully thick lashes. He smiled at her, eyelids still heavy with sleep.

 

“Morning, my lady.”

 

She sensed the teasing tone on his voice and pinched his arm.

 

“You know it’s Peggy.”

 

He laughed, not even bothering to pretend she’d hurt him, and pulled her closer. He kissed along her jaw, slowly, and then his lips began to trail down her neck, the rough stubble on his chin scratched the delicate skin there, but it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation.

 

She pushed his lips away, extracting herself from his embrace. He made a needy noise and it sent a thrill through her.

 

“I have work to do, and you have something to get back to, surely?” She looked at him, sprawled in her bed, and realised she knew next to nothing about him.

 

He shook his head.

 

She sighed, standing up and pulling her robe around her. “Well find something, I can’t have you lazing around in my bed all day.”

 

He stretched and then put his hands behind his head, looking far too comfortable in her bed. “I’m more than happy to wait here until you require my services again.”

 

She picked up his undergarments, scattered across her room, and threw them at him.

 

* * *

 

Peggy tried to avoid Steve as much as she could. As enjoyable as their night together was, she didn’t need the distraction, but he made it absurdly difficult. He didn’t seem to be following her anymore, but he did happen to frequent the same areas of town she did. It was infuriating.

 

She got stuck into her work, doing her level best to ignore him. But he was always on the peripheral, always at the edge of her thoughts.

 

She managed to keep herself busy, successfully avoiding Steve, until the anniversary of her brother’s death. Her grief, which she was able to tightly lock away most of the time, came pouring out, and late at night her drunken father became the target of her anger.

 

They fought bitterly, each delivering low blows, but it did little to ease the grief. Instead it left Peggy emotionally drained and desperate for comfort. As she turned to leave her father reached for a fresh bottle of wine, and that was her tipping point. She wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction of drinking himself to death, leaving her alone to pick up the pieces. She picked up the bottle and threw it, watching it shatter as blood red liquid splattered across the wall.

 

In her anger she didn’t notice the puddle forming and as she stormed out she slipped, falling to her hands and knees. She cursed as the glass cut her skin, tearing easily through the thin fabric of her nightgown. As she left she heard her father calling her name, but she didn’t want his comfort.

 

Peggy sent her guards to locate Steve and bring him to the castle. She didn’t offer an explanation for her request, and they didn’t dare to ask.

 

When Steve arrived he was escorted to her private quarters, looking wary. She excused the guards and led him to a chair by the fire. He noticed the blood on her hands and frowned, looking up at her.

 

“You’re hurt?” He spoke softly.

 

She nodded, turning to retrieve a small collection of ointments and cloths, she’d tried to remember what he’d needed before. When she put them down on the small table and pulled up a chair next to Steve, he understood immediately.

 

He reached for her hands, turning them palm up to examine the damage. His frown deepened, but he got to work. His gentle touch was soothing, and when the ointment made her wince, he rubbed him thumb over her wrist, calming her.

 

They didn’t talk much as Steve patched her up, and she was grateful for that. She felt drained and close to tears. When he finished cleaning and bandaging her hands, he looked to her, concern clear on his face.

 

“Anywhere else?”

 

She simply nodded, lifting her skirt to reveal the scrapes on her knees. The clothing had provided a little protection, so the damage wasn’t a bad as on her palms, but they were still bloody, and the nightgown would need some repairing. Steve knelt down, wrapping his warm hand around her calf as he examined her knee. His touch sent a thrill through her, and she was too exhausted to try and ignore how his soft touch and concerned glance made her feel.

 

Steve looked up at her through thick lashes. “Is your healer out of town again?”

 

“No,” Peggy replied.

 

He nodded, seeming to take more from her words than she’d intended, before reaching for the ointment again.

 

Peggy found it hard to keep her thoughts in check with her skirt hiked up and Steve’s hands on her legs. Although his hands were large, there was something so delicate in the way they moved.

 

“You’re an artist?” Peggy guessed.

 

Steve shrugged, not meeting her gaze. “I like to draw, mostly just sketches of objects and people I find interesting.”

 

“Have you drawn me?”

 

He didn’t reply, but the blush that warmed his cheeks answered her question. She smiled.

 

Steve finished up, tying the bandage around her knee. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he dipped his head and planted a soft kiss just below the bandage.

 

Peggy froze, her heart racing, but Steve kept his head down, turning to clear up the supplies. She felt so cared for under his touch, but now the softness of his lips against her leg had her aching for something more. As he stood she reached for his hand. She tugged on it, and that was all the invitation he needed.

 

He leaned down, bracing his arms either side of her on the chair, and kissed her. Her fingers threaded through his hair, keeping him close. Peggy drank in the scent of him, the feel of his soft lips as they moved with hers, the little moans that travelled from his mouth to hers as she scraped her nails against his scalp.

 

After long minutes of kissing Steve pulled away, just slightly, and she felt the puffs of his breath on her cheek. He took her bandaged hand, careful of her injuries, and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

 

“Do you want to get some rest?”

 

Peggy shook her head, understanding the meaning behind his question. He reached down and lifted her in one swift movement, then carried her to the bed.

 

* * *

 

A bitter cold winter brought unnecessary hardships to the people of her town. A wave of sickness struck as people struggled to keep warm, the pathways turned slick with ice, causing a hazard for both the carts and those on foot. The town healer was struggling.

 

Despite her better judgement, Peggy tracked down Steve again. His lodgings were on the edge of the town and extremely modest. He didn’t seem particularly surprised to find her standing in his doorway. Instead he smiled warmly, inviting her in.

 

She followed him inside, leaving her guard at the door. “I need your help.”

 

* * *

 

She expected he would want something in return, gold, another night in her bed, but he didn’t ask for either. He asked for food, and any supplies he might need, but that was all.

 

Peggy kept a close eye on him at first to make sure no harm came to his patients, but it quickly became clear he took his responsibility as a healer seriously. She had no reason to continue accompanying him, but that didn’t stop her. Without intending to, she became his assistant, comforting his patients, tying bandages, cleaning equipment.

 

He taught her as he worked, allowing her to take over some of the smaller roles when he felt she was ready. They worked well as a team, she knew what to hand him next without having to be told. As she watched him, so gentle with his patients, she wondered how he’d ended up as a paid mercenary.

 

* * *

 

Inevitably, Steve ended up in her bed again. His muscular physique and beautiful, chiselled features would have been enough by themselves, but coupled with his quiet, caring nature she found it impossible to stay away from him.

 

Steve didn’t seem to mind.

 

After they were both sated they lounged in her bed for long hours, kissing, touching, sharing stories. She found out that Steve had been raised by his mother, until she passed away when he was barely a man. He’d struggled for a few years, not strong enough for manual labour, until a famed healer, Abraham Erskine, took an interest in him. Steve had agreed to be a test subject, in exchange for bed and board.

 

“I wasn’t always,” he motioned to his toned physique, “like this.” He said it as though he was ashamed.

 

Peggy ran her hands over his abdomen, feeling his muscles tense under her touch.

 

“I’m extremely grateful for it,” she teased, flashing him a smile.

 

He chuckled, shaking his head. “It helped me get work, and survive for a while longer.”

 

“But farm labour wasn’t enough?”

 

He shook his head again. “Not when you need mountains of food just to survive. So, I had to take some jobs I’m not too proud of.”

 

He met her gaze evenly, waiting for a reaction, but she kept her expression even.

 

“I tried only to kill when it seemed like it was for the greater good, when it was someone who caused harm.” His jaw clenched, and he looked away. “But the things they told me about you... it doesn’t add up.”

 

She sighed. “I’ve heard the rumours, that I’m desperate for power, that I’m planning to conquer other towns, that I killed my own...” she blinked quickly as tears filled her eyes. She missed Michael so deeply.

 

Steve wrapped her up in his arms, cuddling her close.

 

“I never wanted this life, I was happy to let Michael have it.” She felt tears run down her cheeks, and wiped them away. “But this town needs a leader, the people need security and protection, and my father is in no state to provide that.”

 

Steve held her tighter.

 

“It’s an enormous responsibility,” he pressed a kiss to her temple. “But the people of this town adore you. As long as you choose to carry out this role, you’ll have my support and protection.”

 

Peggy was taken aback. She knew this was more than sex, even though she’d being trying, in vain, to avoid thinking about her feelings towards Steve. But his promise confirmed it.

 

“Thank you,” was all she managed, as he cradled her against his chest.

 

* * *

 

Watching Peggy work, Steve realised that the accounts of her being ruthless and mercenary were not completely untrue, although she was ruthless in an entirely different way than his associates had led him to believe. When it came to the wellbeing of her people, she was unconquerable.

 

He’d initially been drawn to her by both her beauty and strength of character, but seeing the passion she had for the safety of others, the softness in the way she comforted their patients, he found himself falling for her with an intensity he’d never anticipated.

 

Their courtship seemed to be going well, despite its extremely unofficial nature. Peggy wasn’t one for rules and propriety, but Steve was beginning to feel sure of his place in her life, until she announced Lord Alexander Pierce was coming to town.

 

* * *

 

“Word must have got back to him that I have no intention of killing you.” Steve was upset, pacing.

 

“So he’s coming here to finish the job himself?” She stared him down, hands on her hips. “He’s been a friend of my father’s for years. You must realise how absurd that sounds?”

 

Steve frowned. “He sees you as an easy target, with your brother gone and your father weakened, he only has to get rid of you to take Shiring for himself.”

 

Peggy was angry, but she considered his words.

 

“I’m not cancelling the visit,” she said slowly. “But I’ll keep my wits about me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Steve was unhappy as he watched Lord Pierce greet Peggy, bowing slightly as he took her hand and kissed it. Steve stood close to Peggy, his sword on his hip, shield in his hand. He’d insisted on taking on a more official role during Pierce’s visit. Peggy had seemed indifferent to the suggestion.

 

There was the usual fanfare that came along with a visit from neighbouring nobility, a banquet, lavish clothes, pleasantries and mingling. Steve hated it. But he had no intention of leaving Peggy alone with Pierce.

 

When Pierce retreated, towards the end of the evening, Steve followed. As soon as Pierce’s guards caught sight of Steve, they turned on him, swords raised. Pierce moved his hands, motioning for his guards to lower their weapons, then he looked at Steve with a nasty smile.

 

“I understand you’ve taken quite a liking to Lady Margaret?”

 

Steve bit his tongue.

 

“I see the attraction, she is quite something. I considered marrying her myself once, securing her lands that way, but from what I gather she’s rather a lot of work.” He rubbed his jaw, absently. “Not easy to subdue.”

 

“I’ll pay back everything you gave me, and more, just leave her alone.” Steve’s hands were clenched in fists at his sides, but he kept his voice even.

 

Pierce shook his head, still smiling. “I’m not interested in your gold, I have bigger goals, and Margaret Carter is in my way.”

 

Steve took a step forward and the guards raised their swords.

 

“She is such a beauty, it’s a terrible waste.” His sneer sent chills down Steve’s spine.

 

_Peggy._

 

* * *

 

Steve searched the castle frantically, but Peggy was nowhere to be found. The party was coming to an end, people were milling out, downing the last of their wine. He saw Peggy’s father through the crowd, slumped in his chair. Steve ran to him, but he was barely conscious.

 

“Where is she?” Steve demanded.

 

Her father grumbled, reaching for his ale. “This town needs a strong leader,” he managed to say, before collapsing onto the table.

 

So, Pierce had already got to him.

 

* * *

 

Peggy’s knees scraped against the harsh stone floor as she was thrown into the tower cell, the heavy door was bolted behind her. She’d had her suspicions about Pierce for a long time, even before her run in with him as a girl. She’d been young enough to think a blow to his face would be the end of it, but she could see now that Pierce had no intention of letting her get in the way of what he wanted.

 

He wanted her land and her wealth, and she would either comply or be removed. She was wise enough now to know she had to play along.

 

* * *

 

Steve lingered on the edges of the castle, watching for any signs of Peggy or Pierce. After trying to fight his way up to Peggy’s quarters, Pierce’s guards had knocked him out and dragged him outside. But it did nothing to deter him. If there was any chance Peggy was still alive, he was sticking around to help her escape, and if she wasn’t, he had no intention of letting Pierce leave the castle alive.

 

Four days passed before Steve saw his first glimmer of hope. Peggy, dressed in the most lavish dress he’d ever seen her in, left the castle. She was surrounded by hordes of Pierce’s guards, as well as some of her own.

 

Steve studied her, looking for any sign she’d been harmed. She looked pale and there were dark circles under her eyes, but no visible injuries. He breathed a sigh of relief, until he noticed Pierce trailing behind her. Pierce’s eyes searched until they met Steve’s, and he smiled a sickening smile. Steve instantly knew something was very wrong.

 

* * *

 

A wedding. Peggy’s intricately designed dress and beautifully braided hair was for a wedding, _her_ wedding to Pierce.

 

Steve tried to stop it, he shouted her name, begging her, cursing Pierce, throwing punches at anyone who got near him, but it was no use, the wedding went ahead. Peggy didn’t even look in Steve’s direction.

 

Steve had seen first-hand what kind of person Pierce was. He was brutally violent, evil, merciless. It made Steve nauseous to think of Peggy at his mercy.

 

* * *

 

That night Steve scaled the castle, almost falling to his death several times, before making it to Peggy’s bed chamber. He climbed in, rolling onto the hard floor, before he was pulled up and slammed against the wall.

 

“What the hell are you playing at?”

 

“Peggy,” Steve breathed, meeting her eyes.

 

Surprisingly, they were alone, but she was angry, and he had no idea why.

 

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” she kept her voice low, but Steve could see the anger boiling underneath.

 

“You married Pierce.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I married him, it was that or be killed, it wasn’t much of a choice.”

 

Steve frowned. “Where is he now?”

 

“In his own quarters, I agreed to marry him on the condition that there can be no physical aspect to our relationship.”

 

Steve ground his teeth together, he knew Pierce too well to be comforted by that. “How long do you think that will last?”

 

“I don’t intend to be married long.” Peggy sighed, leaning against him. “You shouldn’t have come here, it’s far too risky.”

 

Steve shrugged. He wasn’t about to apologise for putting himself at risk when she was doing the same thing. He wrapped her up in his arms, tucking her head under his chin. They stayed pressed together for a long while, before either of them spoke again.

 

“What’s your plan for getting out?” Peggy said against his chest.

 

Steve frowned. “I guess I didn’t think that far ahead.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy should have kicked Steve out, she knew that, for his safety as well as her own. But with his warm arms wrapped around her she couldn’t bear the thought of it. So she let him stay in her bed, and when he pressed his body against hers, and made love to her, slowly, she almost forgot she was married to someone else.

 

She woke up too warm in Steve’s embrace, but content, until she heard hurried footsteps. Before she could register what was happening, Steve had been dragged from the bed by Pierce’s guards. Peggy screamed and thrashed out, but they had her pinned down in seconds. She should’ve known better than to let him stay.

 

* * *

 

Steve was locked away in the dungeon, and Pierce was disgustingly smug. Her marriage quickly became hell. Pierce was still sticking to his promise, he hadn’t dared to touch her, but his gloating and jibes about Steve were infuriating. Peggy hadn’t agreed to the marriage without an idea of how she planned to get out of it, but things were moving too slowly for her liking.

 

* * *

 

A fortnight passed with no news of Steve. Peggy was sick with worry, though she hid it from Pierce.

 

She approached the great hall where her father, Pierce, and a large number of guards were gathered. Her stomach was churning as she stood between the two of them, looking at the parchment spread out on the table.

 

“I’m glad to see this day has finally arrived.” Pierce smiled, placing a firm hand on Peggy’s shoulder.

 

Her father smiled back, raising his glass. “I’ve waited too long to hand these lands over to another capable leader.” He took a long sip, not meeting Peggy’s gaze.

 

The document passed ownership of their lands to Lord Alexander Pierce. It was Pierce’s idea, of course, that her father had served the people for too long, that he deserved to enjoy his remaining years in piece, while Pierce presided over the land. With his marriage to Peggy he was family, after all.

 

Her father downed the last of his drink, slamming the glass on the table. “The people of this town deserve someone who fights for them, someone with a hell of a backbone, but plenty of compassion.”

 

Pierce was still smiling as he crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“And there’s no one better suited to that role than my daughter.”

 

The smile slipped from Pierce’s face, and Peggy took a step towards her father.

 

Pierce shook his head, looking disappointed, but not surprised. “I really hoped we wouldn’t have to do things this way.” He turned to face Peggy, keeping his expression even. “Guards.”

 

No one moved.

 

Pierce looked at his men. “ _Guards._ ”

 

“They’re not your guards anymore,” Peggy said, taking a step towards him.

 

Pierce was trying to conceal his fear, but Peggy could see it, brewing just beneath the surface.

 

“They were never loyal to you, they were loyal to your gold. The gold you made by crushing anyone you deemed a threat.” Her words came out with more bite than she intended.

 

“But that method left you with a hoard of enemies. A hoard of people willing to loan me gold, provide me with weapons, food, anything they had left after you tore their lives apart, anything they could give so I could pay your men to turn against you.”

 

Pierce shifted, looking at the armed guards that surrounded him. Perhaps he still doubted her words.

 

“Guards,” she said evenly. “Take him to the tower.”

 

The men swarmed on him, pulling his hands behind his back as he struggled.

 

“One more thing,” Peggy added. “Retrieve the keys from his pocket.”

 

A guard found them and tossed them to Peggy. She nodded to her father before following the men out.

 

* * *

 

Once she was certain Pierce was locked away and no longer a risk to anyone, she ran to the dungeon.

 

Steve was filthy, hunched against the wall in the corner of his cell. He looked lifeless, but at the sound of the key in the lock, he shifted, panicked. Peggy pushed the heavy door open and knelt down at his side. She took note of the scratches on his face, the bruises on his arms, the blood stains on his shirt, as anger boiled in her. Pierce would pay for every single mark on Steve.

 

He tried to move towards her and she realised he was chained to the wall. Peggy managed to free him with Pierce’s keys, and then he practically fell into her arms.

 

“My darling,” she murmured, stroking his hair off of his face.

 

She sat on the cold, hard floor just holding him. His cheeks were hollow, which didn’t surprise her, she knew how Pierce liked to weaken his prisoners. Steve blinked up at her, his brow furrowed.

 

“Pierce?” His voice was hoarse.

 

Peggy shook her head. “He’s locked away, his men are loyal to us now.”

 

Steve smiled and his hand reached up to stroke her cheek. “I knew you’d save the day.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re delirious.”

 

Steve just smiled up at her with a dopey grin as she cradled him against her chest.

 

* * *

 

**Six months later**

 

Steve stretched out in his chair, watching Peggy get ready. She was beautiful, as always. As he watched her, his fingers went to the ring on his left hand, absently playing with it, as he often did. He still couldn’t believe Peggy had agreed to marry him.

 

Her marriage to Pierce had been quickly annulled, Peggy had dealt with the aftermath while Steve had been recovering. She’d insisted he be on bed rest for longer than he felt was necessary, and though he fought it, she made many compelling arguments to keep him in bed. Not that those involved much rest.

 

When he was healed and his strength back, he’d gradually taken on more duties, easing Peggy’s load. She was happy to defer to him on occasion, and he was more than happy to help. They’d begun to settle into a rhythm, things were beginning to settle. Unsurprisingly, that didn’t last.

 

* * *

 

Peggy brushed through her hair, then checked her reflection in the mirror. The mirror was beautifully designed, an intricate pattern carved into wood, it had been a wedding gift. From her marriage to Steve, of course. She’d given away any gifts from her marriage to Pierce.

 

As she glanced at her reflection she felt a flutter, the sensation was quickly becoming familiar. She looked down at her swollen belly, poking out of her night gown, and pressed her hand to it. The pregnancy had been a shock, but not unwanted. She still hadn’t gotten around to buying clothes that would fit her growing midsection.

 

She heard Steve shift. “What is it?” he said, leaning forward.

 

Peggy motioned for him to come over, and then took his hand, pulling it down to replace hers. She waited, studying his face, tight in concentration.

 

At the flutter, his features instantly softened, and a smile slowly spread across his lips. Steve kept his hand where it was and turned his head, pressing a trail of kisses along her jawline.

 

“Let’s go back to bed,” he murmured.

 

It was a very tempting offer, but Peggy had responsibilities.

 

“It’s the town meeting today. You know that.” She didn’t make any move to stop Steve as he started to kiss his way down her neck.

 

“Skip it.”

 

“The people need a place to air their grievances.”

 

“They’ll get over it.”

 

Peggy twisted and wrapped her arms around Steve’s neck before pulling him down for a kiss. He’d put back on the weight he’d lost after his time as Pierce’s prisoner, he was completely healed too. The same couldn’t be said for Pierce.

 

She ran her hands over his shoulders as she deepened the kiss, eliciting a moan from him. When they finally pulled apart, breathing heavily, and pressed their foreheads together, Steve’s hand went to her chest. His hand was warm against her skin, fingers spread, and she knew he was searching for her heartbeat.

 

Peggy pulled back slightly, taking Steve’s face in her hands. “You married the Lady of Shiring, you knew full well what you were getting yourself into.”

 

Steve chuckled, his lips forming a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I did.”

 


End file.
